


Android's Repose

by camijan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game) RPF
Genre: Adorable Connor, Androids, Angst, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Hank Anderson and Connor are Family, Multi, Other, Parent Hank Anderson, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Why?, because agony, but that's like a little later on, connor gets confused with cole anderson, maybe smut idk, reader shows connor the stars because he deserves to see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-21
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-28 23:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30147018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camijan/pseuds/camijan
Summary: The world is constantly evolving, changing, adapting to the android revolution. The fast pace of it all is intoxicating, a high that you chase desperately. Having lived in the countryside all your life, it was time for a change, one that awaited you in the city of Detroit.But first, you need help from an old family friend.And his android partner?Your life is about to become so, so much more interesting.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) & Reader, Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Original Female Character(s), Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. so, how have you been?

**Author's Note:**

> re·pose1  
> /rəˈpōz/
> 
> noun  
> a state of rest, sleep, or tranquility.

**_January 8th, 2039_ **

**_9:40 A.M._ **

**_Detroit, Michigan_ **

It’s been two months since the successful android rebellion- _no_ \- revolution. Much of the public is sympathetic towards the newly emancipated androids and their movement, voting for new legislation in hopes for a better future between androids and humans. With a few exceptions, most people found the revolution exhilarating, powerful- but most importantly, fair and equal. Progress is slow, but steady as the city of Detroit moves on with a brave face.

The sun rises slowly in the cold winter of January, doing little to rouse Lieutenant Anderson from his bed. But what the sun can’t accomplish, an alarm surely can. With the blare of an out-dated alarm, Hank rises with a slew of curses and annoyed grumbles before turning it off.

Without a second to spare, the polite knocking of a certain android raps at his bedroom door.

“Goddammit, can I have one minute to myself?” The detective complains, half-joking, half-serious.

“Sorry Lieutenant, but you’ve received several phone calls to your home phone,” Connor’s professional cadence rarely leaves his voice, something that still annoys Hank to this day, “A woman was on the other end, she left a few messages for you, addressing you as ‘Uncle Hank’.”

For a moment, Hank is silent.

“Did she say her name?”

“Yes, would you like to listen to the messages?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute- don’t do that freaky stunt where you relay the message in another voice, shits creepy." The detective stands, stretching from his tiresome rest. "I’ll get up.”

After getting up and opening the door, Connor is already long gone from the hallway, sitting patiently on the couch with Sumo at his feet. After the revolution, Connor had been freed from his ties to CyberLife, including the AI which resided in his own: Amanda. Though, he willingly chose to stay in the force, continuing to work as an android detective without compensation. Which Lieutenant Anderson describes as 'fucking bullshit'.

The Androids Equal Rights Act is still yet to be established, and for now, there is no compensation for android labor. While this led to many androids refusing to work, it also reduced the human unemployment rate. Consequently, it meant androids couldn’t afford rent. So for the meantime, Connor resides in Lieutenant Anderson’s home.

“Let me listen to the message from the phone if you don’t care, Connor.” He rubs his eyes, trying to acclimate to the lights in his own home.

“Sure thing, Lieutenant-”

“Hank.”

“Sure thing, Hank.” The android smiles fondly at the grizzly man before interfacing with the answering machine. An annoyingly loud ping rings, and a familiar voice echoes throughout the house, one that strikes Hank with a sense of nostalgia.

“ _Hey! Uncle Hank, it’s me. I sure hope this is still your phone number, or else someone is about to get a lot of my information and it’ll be super awkward and- oh whatever, I need to stop rambling._ ”

A pause and a deep breath follow. A collecting of thoughts.

“ _I was wondering if you had time off, maybe you could visit? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I just need help with some stuff over here, and I thought you could be the one to help? It's been ages since I've last seen you and- oh, and I could even see Cole! Like when I was younger and he was just a tiny thing._ ”

A pang of grief strikes Hank in the chest, his heart dropping to his stomach. Right. There was no way you would have known about Cole’s death, he had become a social recluse to anyone outside of Detroit after his son's death. Connor’s eyes shift to the detective’s face, giving him a sympathetic, but grim, smile.

“ _Anywho, if you can, call me back! Even if you can’t help or don’t have time, it’d be nice to talk to you again. See you soon!_ ”

The familiar beep of the answering machine rings out and is followed by another message. “ _Psst. Don’t play this message near Cole! What’s he into? I should really buy him a present, he hasn’t seen or heard from me in ages! Hope he remembers me… anyway, bye!_ ”

Salt in the wound.

Hank inhales sharply, following a small grumble of something pertaining to the message.

“So, what would you like to do Hank?” Connor reaches down, petting Sumo. “I could always stay behind and do your work while you go on vacation.”

“No, no- it’s just.” He sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose for a minute before looking back up. He weighs his options, albeit less computationally than his android partner, “Fuck it, it’d be nice to be outside of this damn city.”

“Alright, do you want me to inform Fowler that you’ll be on vacation?” Connor responds in a way that annoys Hank, that mechanical tone to his voice still sticking to him unconsciously.

“Nah, I can do it. Anyways, you’ll be comin’ with me.” The android raises an eyebrow at Hank’s statement, tilting his head like a confused puppy. A social relations program computes for a moment before coming to a conclusion within 1.5 seconds. This would be a nice opportunity to get on the Lieutenant’s nerves. 

“You know, Hank, I don’t necessarily have to listen to you outside of work.” Connor smiles smugly at the decorated detective, earning him a half-assed glare.

“And I don’t necessarily have to let you live in my house.” Hank snaps back wittingly. “And Fowler doesn’t necessarily pay you, so there’s no reason for you to keep working, unlike _me_.”

“Well…” Connor thinks for a moment, pausing as if he were really trying to think of something to say, “I like working as a detective.”

“Ain’t that the lamest shit.” He snorts at the android’s response, “What next? You gonna tell me that you think it’s fun?”

The android’s silence gives him the answer.

“My god.” Hank rubs his face, quickly mumbling something indistinguishable before looking up once more, “Fine, fine, whatever- do what you want.”

“But,” He cuts Connor off before he can respond, “don’t you wanna see somethin’ outside of Detroit? Do androids not get curious?”

“I could easily view the world with satellite imagery available online, there would be no reason to go elsewhere if I can see it right here.” This earns another glare.

“Now you’re just being a smartass.” Hank groans and walks to the bathroom, ignoring the android for now and getting ready for his day off. He hadn’t heard from you in nearly four years, but the sound of your voice brought a warmth in him that hadn’t been there in some time. One that closely resembled the warmth of his son. Connor sits patiently on the couch, adorning more casual clothes at Hank’s suggestion. A few weeks back, Hank had claimed to see him with android attire felt more… wrong now that the revolution had happened. He had felt like the android uniform was a bad mark, a reminder of their enslavement. Connor hadn't taken his outfit into much consideration but understood the lieutenant's point of view. Unfortunately, he still had to wear the uniform during work hours.

Pushing that memory out of view, Connor weighs his options, assessing nearly every factor before making a decision. Though many of his actions are less rational or even impulsive because of his newly established deviancy, he still has the ability to think and compute like a machine. High priority factors are taken into consideration and included in his evaluation. Several more constituents are gauged before one is left at the top of the list: workflow. Leaving with the lieutenant for a week or so would greatly affect the workflow of the Detroit Police Department, the average amount of homicide cases exceeding well over with what the remaining detectives can handle. Therefore Detective Gavin Reed would be overworked and understaffed.

That doesn’t seem too bad.

A very human emotion stirs inside of him, one that roughly associates with the textbook definition of revenge or _karma_ in some cases. Once Connor and Lieutenant Anderson are gone, Detective Reed would have his hands full. He can imagine the arrogant man panicking under all the work, angrily yelling at Fowler about Hank and that ‘plastic prick’. His LED flickers yellow, then rests on blue. The image is satisfying to him, and he quickly comes to another conclusion. 

He’ll accompany Hank on vacation.

Several minutes pass and Connor is still petting Sumo when the detective leaves the bathroom, not surprising Hank at all. The television is on without any viewers inside the house - _being that Connor was still focusing on Sumo_ \- a news channel spouting some information about anti-android campaigns. Not wanting to sour his morning, Hank switches channels to some weather forecaster for background noise. As always, it’s cold as fuck in January.

With nothing left on his mind besides the usual destructive thoughts, he makes a call to Fowler.

“Well, I’ll be damned, I’ve built up two weeks worth of vacation time.” Hank smiles eagerly as he hangs up the phone with his superior, having a short moment to be proud of himself before Connor interjects.

“You know, Lieutenant, with your average work schedule, you should have at least two months worth of vacation- had you not spent most of your days out drinking.” 

“Can it.” Hank turns his back at the android, smiling softly to himself. Both he and Connor had adjusted to this life of banter and witty remarks, a comforting friendship between the two. They cared for each other, almost like father and-

The phone rings once more, but the caller ID is different from Fowler’s office phone. Hank squints at the number, a familiar one. He picks his brain for a second, confused as to who it is before Connor interjects once more.

“It’s the same caller from earlier today, the one who called you 'uncle', Lieutenant.”

He answers the phone without a second to spare.

“Uncle Hank!” Your eyes light up as you finally receive an answer on the other end. For a moment, you thought that the number belonged to someone else or worse- that Hank Anderson was long gone. You take a moment to breathe, collecting yourself. It’s been nearly five years since you were last able to reach Hank, having gone ghost a long time ago. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you drop whatever you're doing, holding the phone closely as if it were something precious.

“So, how have you been?”


	2. understand her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter storm brings in an old friend.
> 
> And a curious android.

**_January 10th, 2039_ **

**_5:58 P.M._ **

**_Rural Upstate Michigan_ **

You quickly run about and around your small house, doing some last-minute tidying as you await your two guests. Two days ago, you had finally made contact with a long, lost family friend- one that you practically assumed was dead had you not looked up his name online. Hank Anderson, now a lieutenant, was close friends with your father and had kept in contact consistently until several years back. All of a sudden, he had gone ghost, refusing to pick up calls or reply to messages until recently.

He was a trusted family friend, one that you confided in. His bright-eyed, mischievous nature drew everyone in like a lasso. Hank was the fun uncle of the family, albeit not blood-related. Though, blood hardly matters nowadays. Several fond memories flash in your mind, a smile creeping at the corner of your lips as you reminisce. Your footsteps creak against the wooden flooring, recently repaired and polished to keep your old family house up-to-date. Or at the very least, functional.

The life you live is… modest to say the least. In rural Michigan, there are very few options for occupation, less so for education. Though, with the increase of technology, you found yourself taking classes online while you worked. Selling home-grown goods got you enough to manage, nothing fancy. Inevitably, this meant your entire house has at least a hundred plants inside and a few dozen more out. 

A loud knocking snaps you out of your cleaning trance, both anxiety and excitement surging through you as you rush to the door. You check yourself in the mirror quickly, adjusting yourself to be more presentable. The drive from Detroit to your home in the countryside took roughly four hours- maybe five with the snow-induced traffic.

‘ _It’s been around five years, what does he look like now? Five years is a lot of time… Five years- Cole’s like nine years old now! Or eight? I hope I can make them comfortable. I hope Cole likes his present-_ ‘

Your anxious thoughts slip away as the door flies open, letting in the cold winter air and an old friend.

“Hey kid, it’s nice to see you again.”

The first thing you notice is how he aged. Hank’s hair is longer and more grey, only several shades away from being white underneath the silvery snowflakes. His grey stubble matches suit. But something’s off about him. His eyes carry bags and his smile is a little crooked, but genuine nonetheless. It’s clear he made an attempt to clean himself up, but the changes are just too apparent to conceal.

Still, he and Cole are some of the few fragments of family that you have left. 

For a moment, you just smile, happy to just see him after so long. A hug follows closely behind, your head buried in his thick winter coat. The smell of coffee and fresh snow lingers on him like a shadow. Tears well up in your eyes as he hugs you back, making some kind-hearted remark that slips right past your ears. His fatherly embrace briefly fills an empty pit in your chest, a recollection of memories stemming from his touch. It feels like the past, when you were a carefree teen and your family was whole.

You childishly wipe your tears on his coat before departing from the hug, collecting yourself into a warm smile, “I’ve missed you a lot.”

Hank pauses, in his own fit of nostalgia, before returning the smile, “Missed you too, kid.” The endearing moment is cut short by his own blunt, but carefree, nature, “But, do you mind letting me in? I’m freezin’ my ass out here.”

“Oh- yeah! Of course, I bet Cole is freezing too-” You step to the side, giving Hank passage into your warm house and to greet who you _thought_ would be Cole. 

You blink, dumbfounded, as you stare _up_ at the figure trailing closely behind Hank, a figure that closely resembles the little boy you know, but not quite. As he closes the door, you pause, gaze shifting quickly between your family friend and this… man. He’s taller than you by a handful of inches, his hair a dark shade of brown which is neatly tucked underneath a grey beanie. A kind, but curious look swirls in his chocolatey eyes. A lot of kids tend to lose their blue eyes over time, but has it really been that long?

This is a **_man_ **, not a boy.

“Hey- it’s still 2039, _right_ ?” You pull at the collar of your sweater, eyebrows furrowing with a nervous smile, “I’m not actually thirty-something and disillusioned while Cole is already in his twenties, _right_?” The tall man raises an eyebrow at your questioning, glancing over to the detective, a bit amused at your oddly specific paranoia.

Hank chuckles at your nervous rambling, but a grim smile soon replaces the one prior.``Sorry kid- uh, not about you bein’ disillusioned or anything- but this ain’t Cole.” He gives your confused stare an understanding nod. “Cole actually- He actually passed away in an accident some time ago.” Hank holds his breath as your heart drops. A lump in your throat rises as the realization hits you. Cole is gone. He’s dead. The little boy whom you’ve cared for and laughed with and loved is gone forever.

The changes in Hank are completely understandable now.

Heartbroken tears leave your eyes, but you quickly wipe them away, but not before sniffling a few times. Different anxieties wash over you like waves as the heat of embarrassment rises on your back and tapers towards the nape of your neck. The silence between all three of you is deafening as you gather your mind. You are crying. In front of Uncle Hank and a stranger. A deep breath enters your lungs as you recollect yourself, your lips forming into a tight frown, “I’m so sorry, Hank.”

“It’s alright, we can discuss that matter later.” The lieutenant switches subjects, noticing your discomfort and answering it with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, we’re a bit late, actually.”

“No, no- it’s alright. Just gave me more time to clean the house.” You run a hand through your hair, carelessly adjusting it in a poor attempt to appear more collected, “So, who might you be?” Your eyes switch subjects to the unknown man standing in your home, face relaxed into a welcoming smile.

Connor’s eyes sync with yours, from a distance, it appears like simple eye contact- but it’s not. His analytical protocols make quick work of you. In less than a second, he already knows all of your public information. Full name, all physical description, occupation, and criminal record are revealed on the user interface integrated into his optical units. Several more records appear but he shifts them away from view, unimportant for now. Something stands out.

Your criminal record.

The urge to dig further into your history tugs at his investigative program, an old habit attempting to lure him into his mechanical nature. But that would require more than a simple facial recognition scan. He shakes it off, manually halting the program for the moment, trying not to feed into his own machinations. Reminding himself that such nosiness could be considered rude, he returns back to the present. But it’s too late; you’ve already piqued his interest.

“I’m Connor, Lieutenant Anderson’s partner.” He stifles a bit, breaking eye contact as if he were embarrassed, “Sorry if my presence caused you some discomfort.”

“No, not at all- I’m glad to see uncle Hank with some proper friends for once.” You take note of his voice. It’s smooth, professional, but boyish nonetheless. His tone is both warm and mechanical, conflicting but harmonious and easy on the ears. A smile rests on his lips, easing your sorrow temporarily. As you examine him, you find several freckles dotted across his face, adding to his charm. Had you not confused him with an older Cole Anderson, you would have seen him as attractive- _which he absolutely is._

A timer rings in the kitchen, its outdated chime bringing you back to the present, “Oh- I have to get back to the food, you boys can hang up your coats on the rack. And if you don’t mind, please leave your shoes next to the door.” As you scurry back to the kitchen, Connor turns to Hank, voice reducing to a whisper, “Lieutenant, is she your niece?”

“Yes and no.” He tugs at his boots, setting them aside while putting up his winter jacket, “She’s not my niece because we’re not blood-related, but she is my niece because I’m a helluva uncle figure.” Those words catch Connor a bit off guard, seeing as Hank was often reluctant to disclose the status of any of his relationships. “You can see someone like family without bein’ tied with blood.”

“Well,” Connor pauses for a moment, his social module trying to deem whether or not his next sentence would be appropriate, “She has a criminal rec-”

“None of that shit right now, Connor,” Hank cuts him off, scolding him, and giving an indirect answer to his social module’s query, “I don’t wanna think about criminal records n’ shit while we’re here, especially not about her.”

He nods, murmuring a quick apology as he finishes undressing his shoes and coat. His beanie accompanies the other articles of clothing, revealing the small circle LED on his temple. Connor quickly adjusts his hair, tousled from the beanie.

From the kitchen, you call out to the two men, “Come on in, make yourselves comfortable.”

As the duo turns the corner, you greet them with a smile, ladle in hand as you stir whatever it is you’re cooking.

“Mind if we talk over dinner?”

Something about you struck Connor with a sense of intrigue. He double-checks the information provided from his analytical protocols, triple-checks sources and investigative programs to make sure what he had seen was correct. An overwhelming sense of curiosity rises in his chest, one that threatened on the verge of shutting down his social relations protocol. Again, he manually silences them, priority queues shifting to one which was completely self-serving.

  * _Understand her._



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re·pose1  
> /rəˈpōz/
> 
> noun  
> a state of rest, sleep, or tranquility.


End file.
